


postmortem

by EmeraldTulip



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canon Gay Character, Canonical Character Death, Castiel and Dean Winchester Have a Profound Bond, Castiel and Dean Winchester are Jack Kline's Parents, Claire Novak & Dean Winchester Friendship, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Grieving Dean Winchester, Jack Kline and Claire Novak are Siblings, M/M, Minor Kaia Nieves/Claire Novak, Missing Scene, Post-Canon, offensive that im writing spn fic in the year of our lord 2021. the things we do for love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-14 04:20:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28664598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmeraldTulip/pseuds/EmeraldTulip
Summary: "So," she smirks around a bite of her cheeseburger. "How's Cas? He tell you he's in love with you yet? End of the world, and all."Dean doesn't quite meet her gaze."Wait," she says. Sets the burger down, pushes the plate to the side. "Wait. Did he actually?"He still can't seem to look at her, instead opting to tear bits off of his paper napkin. "Claire," he says carefully, his voice clearly one step off from breaking, "Cas is dead."Claire Novak, after the end of the world.
Relationships: Alex Jones & Jody Mills & Claire Novak, Castiel & Claire Novak, Castiel & Jack Kline, Castiel/Dean Winchester, Claire Novak & Dean Winchester, Jack Kline & Claire Novak, Jack Kline & Dean Winchester
Comments: 36
Kudos: 334





	postmortem

**Author's Note:**

  * For [theliteraltrash](https://archiveofourown.org/users/theliteraltrash/gifts).



> uh hi spn fandom! im ngl you kinda scare me but i love my bro soren so i wrote him this thing. go easy on me, ive seen maybe eight episodes total and none of them were the finale. heard it sucked though. so this starts in between 15.19 and 15.20 and ends post-canon. itll make sense with context.
> 
> a few quick warnings! i didnt tag mcd because its canon stuff and only in retrospect. obviously theres a lot of conversation about death. there's a mention of suicidal ideation, but only in terms of people worrying about dean's reckless behavior. i think that's it.
> 
> n e ways heres like 4k words of me projecting onto claire novak, gay icon. hope yall enjoy!

Claire can tell that something’s up when she slams through the back door. “I’m home!” she calls, and it’s like the air goes stale.

“Claire,” Jody says, materializing in the hallway. She gestures at the kitchen she stepped out from.

“Am I in trouble?” she asks, racking her brain. She did steal a pack of gum from a gas station a few towns over, but that was almost a month ago. No, something else is up.

Jody shakes her head. “No, you just—”

“Hey, kid,” a voice says from behind Jody, and Claire can’t help the grin that spreads across her face when she sees Dean Winchester. The Impala must be parked out front.

“Dean!” She tilts her head at him. “What’s up? Haven’t seen you since before you saved the world.” Sam had given Jody a quick call a couple days ago to fill them all in on what happened—Claire is still a little unnerved that they all got Thanos snapped and didn’t even notice. “Is there a case nearby? Where’s Sam?”

He shakes his head. His whole body is tense, like any sudden movement could make him explode. “No, no case. I, uh—” He falters, and Claire’s stomach drops even as he composes himself just as quickly. He tries for a smile. “Let’s talk, okay? I’ll buy you a burger.”

Claire glances at Jody, who nods her permission—not that she _needs_ it. She’s an adult, after all. It’s just… nice, sometimes, to have rules and parents and stuff. “Yeah, okay, just let me put my bag in my room.”

Dean nods jerkily. “Sure. Meet you in the car.” Then he spins on his heel and walks out the door.

Claire looks at Jody again, quirks an eyebrow— _what’s his problem?_

Jody looks away. There’s something like pity on her face, and Claire hates that so she clears out quick.

* * *

The burger joint is relatively busy, and Dean suddenly looks nervous, eyes snapping around at different people. Claire tries to give him a reassuring look—she and Alex have been here a few times when it’s been far more crowded—but she never once catches his attention.

True to his word, Dean buys her a burger. She’s surprised—and a little worried—when he doesn’t order anything. Privately, she resolves to let him steal some fries if he wants to.

"So," she smirks around a bite of her cheeseburger. "How's Cas? He tell you he's in love with you yet? End of the world, and all." She's just teasing—she and Jody have ribbed Dean over it consistently for the past few years. An angel of the lord and a bitchy hunter clearly attached at the hip is serious comedy, okay? Especially when said bitchy hunter is very mean about it.

Dean doesn't quite meet her gaze.

"Wait," she says. Sets the burger down, pushes the plate to the side. "Wait. Did he actually?"

He still can't seem to look at her, instead opting to tear bits off of his paper napkin. "Claire," he says carefully, his voice clearly one step off from breaking, "Cas is dead."

It doesn't process, even as the cold sets in. She feels sick, all of a sudden, all over. In her bones. Castiel can't be dead. He _can't_ be. "No," she chokes out, just a little too loudly for the diner. "No, he’s not.”

“Claire—”

She raises her voice. “He can't, he can still come back, you can _bring him back_ —"

" _Claire_." Dean cuts her off, and she almost surges to her feet in a burst of anger. She's halfway out of her seat when she finally sees Dean's face— _really_ sees it. He seems so much older, even though it hasn't been that long since she's seen him. His mouth is now turned persistently downward in a frown. His eyes are… empty. There's just no _Dean_ in there anymore. She doesn't know how she missed it. Maybe she didn’t want to see it.

"How… how did he…" She trails off, slumping back into her seat. She can't say the word.

Dean finally meets her eyes, and she almost wishes she hadn't. He looks so absolutely miserable, it gives Claire a headache. "He saved me," he tells her. His voice is flat. "He took down Death herself, but he went down with her." His jaw clenches, then loosens—a tic Claire only notices because Alex teases her about doing the same thing. "Claire, I tried to save him. I tried _everything_ to bring him back. I did." He sounds close to tears now, and something about that shakes her to her core. She watches as he carefully composes himself, the same way she does in the mirror after a particularly grueling hunt. "I'm so sorry."

She can't breathe, but Dean is _shaking_ from the force of his own words, and that knocks some of the wind back into her lungs. "I'm sorry, too." She almost doesn't want to say it, but she has to. "I just… you two were really close." That's just one word for it, but she won't push. He’s never been receptive to it before.

So she's surprised when he shrugs one shoulder in a manner that says _well, you got me_. "He… loved me. I know that, now—that's how he saved me, actually. It's a long story. I just wish I… I never…" He takes a breath, tracing his pointer finger across a groove in the tabletop. "I wish we had more time."

 _More time._ Suddenly, Claire wants it too, and she could punch through this shittily constructed table that sits in between them. Castiel wasn't her father. She's always known that—it was the first thing he ever told her. But he cared, and a little part of her loved him for it.

"Will you give him a hunter's funeral?" she asks, trying to wrap her head around it. He's _gone_. But maybe, if she can stomach it, she can see him one last time.

Unfortunately, she clearly struck a nerve. An odd expression crosses over Dean's face—like he's been stabbed in the side. "There's no body to burn," he says stiffly, and then he doesn't say anything else.

"There's no—" She almost chokes on her tongue, suddenly clumsy in her own mouth. There's no body.

Logically, she knows this shouldn't feel like such a blow. Castiel has been reformed several times over—his vessel hasn't been her father's body in years. Jimmy Novak has been dead for a long time. But even so, that's his _face_. That's her father's face, it's _Castiel's_ face, and now Dean is telling her that's gone, too?

"I can still see it," Dean says slowly, pressing a hand over his face. "Every time I close my eyes. He knew exactly what he was doing. He was there, and then he was just… gone." He drops his hand and shakes his head. "I tried, you know. Told God that I would do whatever he wanted if he would just bring everyone back. If he brought _Cas_ back. Told him I'd do anything, even kill my brother or let him kill me."

"Dean…"

"I didn't kill Sam, Claire," he rolls his eyes, but she can see his heart's not in it. "Jack, uh, he consumed all the God powers. So I thought, you know, he could maybe…" He shakes his head. "I prayed to him, and I got nothing. But it's Jack, and he loved Cas, so I know he tried. And if God can't bring him back, what the hell am _I_ supposed to do?"

Claire thinks back to some old text conversations, does some quick mental math. "Isn't Jack, like, three years old?"

Dean winces a little. "Yeah, but he's… mature for his age." He smiles for the first time—a fragile, cracked thing, but it reminds Claire that he's still alive, not just dead on his feet going through the motions. There's even a hint of paternal pride that shines through. "Cas wanted him to meet you. _Jack_ wanted to meet you. I don't know if he can, now. He hasn't come by for dinner even once yet. I guess he's busy doing God stuff."

She can hear the thinly veiled hurt in his voice. "I wanted to meet him, too," she says, and she isn't lying. From what Cas and Sam have told her, he is so thoroughly her brother that it hurts sometimes knowing they've never actually met. She wants to laugh with him about stupid internet things. She wants to protect him, even if he’s God now and he doesn’t need her to. She wants to know if Dean was right when he told her months ago that Jack smiles the same way that she does—the same way Cas does. Did. Jimmy didn't smile like that.

It hits her, suddenly, that she is more like Cas than she ever was like Jimmy. And _god_ , that hurts. She doesn't love her father any less—she just knows that Castiel was _good_ for her. When she pictures her father, now, it's sometimes hard to tell which one of them she's thinking of. They may have had the same face, but she could always tell the difference. Subconsciously, though, that line has blurred.

"I think I wanted a family dinner," Dean says, and the words sound so out of place in his mouth but they settle so comfortably between them. "Me and Sam, obviously, but I wanted you and Cas and Jack there too. At least once." He shakes his head. "I know I'm not your dad—hell, I know _Cas_ wasn't your dad. But with Jack… it just made sense. You're family." He swallows. "I don't think Cas ever knew I thought that."

Behind the horrible chill of grief, something warm blooms in her chest. "I didn't know you thought that, either," she ventures. "I don't think—family, I didn't—well." She huffs out a half laugh. "My parents loved me, but I was so young. I can't remember what that family felt like." She hates baring her soul like this. The closest she's ever gotten to talking about this was with Kaia. But it's Dean sitting across from her, and he just said they're family, and he looks so shattered that she can't bear to _not_ say it. It doesn't hurt that he's probably one of the only people in the world who really gets her, even if she'll never admit it. "But you and Cas and Sam… you guys brought me to Jody. You got me back on my feet. You played fucking minigolf with me. We think you're family, too—Jody says it all the time, even though you're not really around to hear it." She quirks a small smile. "I still would very much like to have a family dinner with you, even if it’s not how you imagined it."

Dean roughly scrubs a plaid flannel sleeve across his eyes. "Dammit, Claire."

She chuckles a little, not bothering to hide the watery sound of it. "This ‘free will’ thing kinda blows when the things you want are the things you can't have anymore, huh?"

Dean's face shutters as the words leave her mouth, then softens just as fast. "You… I know Cas wasn't Jimmy. But you… you're so much like him."

“Uh, thank you?”

He shakes his head. "It’s a good thing, I promise. It’s just… Claire, you're still young. There are things you want that you _can_ also have. You have a family, you have _us_. You can… you can call me at any time. You could pray to Jack—it feels weird, I know, but he would love to talk. You can do anything you want. Free will was something Cas and Sam and I fought for for _you_ ." He shoots her a sad excuse for a smile. "He just wanted you to be happy. _I_ want you to be happy."

 _I want you to be happy, too,_ she wants to say, but she recognizes the pit behind his eyes. It's the same one she saw in herself when Kaia was gone. She doesn't know if Dean can _let_ himself be happy anymore. _You loved him_ , she almost says. "Thank you, Dean," is what she says instead.

* * *

"I'm sorry," he tells her when they're back in the car. "I didn't want to… I was going to tell you after we left the diner. I wanted you to have something good before I ruined it." His mouth twists into a rueful grin. "Guess I ruined it faster than I thought I would."

She shakes her head. “You didn’t ruin anything, Dean.” She hopes he can hear the unsaid _ever_ tacked on at the end.

His hands fidget on the wheel for a minute before he dips one into his pocket. “I, uh. Found this in his room, after… you know.” He holds it out to her.

It’s a cream colored envelope, and Claire can see her own name scrawled across the front in big loopy letters. She doesn’t want to touch it.

Dean’s other hand tightens almost imperceptibly on the steering wheel. “I guess he… he knew what was coming. There was a whole stack of these. For everyone.”

 _Did you get one?_ she almost blurts out, but she’s not _that_ much of an idiot. “Oh,” she says instead. “Oh.” She takes it from him, brushes a hand over the lettering. Jimmy’s handwriting was different—sharper, smaller. “Thank you.”

He visibly bites his cheek, then nods once. He doesn’t say anything else for the rest of the car ride.

* * *

She puts the letter on her desk, next to her knife that could easily slice open the seal. She stares at it for hours before she realizes all the lights in the house are off and everyone is asleep. She glances out the window into the driveway—the Impala is gone.

Claire prays to Jack for the first time that night. It’s less of a prayer and more of a hello. She doesn’t ask him for anything.

* * *

This time, Claire knows what the uneasiness when she walks in the house is. It’s the exact same thing she felt when Dean came by a few weeks ago. She makes a beeline from the back door straight to the main room.

“Claire,” Jody says reflexively, standing and blocking her view. She does a piss poor job of it, because Claire can still see the giant of a man sitting on the couch.

“Sam?” she asks, and when he looks up at her, she feels her throat tightening. His eyes are red.

“Claire, please, give us a minute—”

Claire shoves Jody off. “Sam. _What happened_?” Her heart is twisting into knots in her chest, because the second before he says it, she knows.

“He’s gone,” Sam says, and his voice wavers violently. “Dean. He’s gone.”

* * *

Claire doesn’t really remember her legs giving out, nor does she remember the ugly sob that bursts from her mouth. She does remember Jody catching her before she can collapse, carding a hand through her hair, walking her to her room.

 _He was alive,_ she thinks in a loop. _I texted him a couple days ago. How can he not be alive anymore?_

It takes a while before she really comes back to herself, and by then the sun is slipping below the horizon. The last rays of light coming through her window catch on the knife, still laying next to the envelope on her desk. She hasn’t opened it—hasn’t touched it since she put it there. Since Dean—

A horrible thought crawls through her mind, unbidden, as she recalls the brokenness behind Dean’s eyes. He didn’t… he _wouldn’t_ —

The rage suddenly ignites inside her, licking at her lungs and crushing her heart. “Jack,” she says, and it’s only after she says it that she realizes she’s talking out loud. She squeezes her eyes closed, willing away the tears burning behind them. “Jack, please talk to me. _Please_.”

Nothing changes. No shift in the air, no sudden warmth or chill. Nothing.

“God _dammit_ ,” she mumbles.

“That won’t be necessary,” a boy says, a lilt of amusement in his tone.

She nearly jumps out of her skin, hand flying to the gun that she realizes at the last minute isn’t strapped to her waist. It wouldn’t make a difference, she decides after a moment—she’s looking at Jack.

He smiles at her—a soft, private thing. “Hello, Claire.”

He’s older than she thought he would be, even when she factored in his rapid aging. He looks like he could be in any of her college classes. He’s dressed like it, too—white sneakers and denim jacket and carelessly well-tamed hair.

He looks like Cas. He looks like _Claire_.

“He was my father, too,” he says, and she jumps. Either she said that out loud, or he’s reading her mind.

“I don’t want you up here,” she mutters, gesturing at her head.

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes, and he really does look sincere. “I’m still new at this. I don’t mean to pry, sometimes I just… hear things.”

Suddenly, she’s at a loss for words. This is God. She’s just met her brother, and he’s _God_.

He grimaces. “I don’t really like being called that,” he tells her. “Jack is good.”

“Stay out of my head, Jack,” she snaps, but she doesn’t really mean it. “I called you for a reason. I’ve been praying to you _every_ _night_.”

“I know,” he says, and the apologetic look is back. “I heard you. I wanted to answer, I did—it’s just so hard to hear everyone’s prayers all the time, and Heaven isn’t rebuilding _itself_ , so…” He trails off. “I probably shouldn’t tell you about Heaven, since you’re, you know, mortal. I’m sorry.” He does look sorry. “And, anyway, you called about Dean. Didn’t you?”

“Dean,” she says haltingly, “didn't look good when I saw him. A few weeks ago. Did he… _would_ he?”

Jack knows what she's asking—of course he does. He's God. “No. He died on a hunt. It wasn't planned.”

Him saying it makes it _real_. It didn’t feel real until this moment. “If you’re God,” she says, and she tries to keep her tone even, “Dean and Cas should be alive. Why aren’t they alive?”

Jack sighs and sits on a chair that wasn’t there a second ago. “There are rules, Claire, rules even we in heaven and hell have to follow—me, Amara, Rowena, the angels. I can’t resurrect them every time they die—it’s not cosmically fair.”

“Who fucking cares about _fair_?” she demands.

“It didn't help that there were so many claims to Dean’s soul,” Jack explains, “and to Castiel’s Grace. Heaven, Hell, the Darkness— _everyone_ wanted a piece of them. I’m trying to be hands-off as a general rule; it was all I could do to keep their essences from becoming the prize in a new cosmic war. Unlimited chances at life just isn’t an option.”

“They deserved to be happy!”

“They _are_ happy,” Jack says.

That stops her in her tracks. “They—what?”

Jack frowns down at his shoe, considering the frayed laces. “I really shouldn’t be telling you this.” He tilts his head, as if someone is whispering in his ear. His mouth twitches into a tiny smile. “But Castiel says that if you can keep a secret, I can tell you.”

She gapes at him. “Castiel?”

Jack smiles serenely at her. “He says hello.”

She has to sit down on the edge of her bed, suddenly feeling faint. “Is he—can I—?”

“I can take a message,” Jack offers. “He’s alive, but the cosmic agreement is that demons and angels aren’t allowed on Earth again for another few hundred years.”

“What dumbass decided that?” Claire grumbles.

Jack laughs—actually laughs, and the room suddenly does feel warmer. “Castiel did, actually.”

“Oh,” she says. “Is that why he… didn’t come back?”

“Of course not,” Jack dismisses, as though it's a stupid question. It doesn't offend her, though—she's starting to think this is just how he is. He takes after Cas. “He was going to come back after we finished rebuilding Heaven. I was going to make him human.”

“What,” she says faintly, “the fuck.”

Jack shrugs. “He asked me to. He wanted to help me fix things. Make Heaven a place of togetherness, like it always should have been. But he didn't want to stay forever. He was always going to come back.”

“But he’s not coming back anymore, is he.” It's not really a question.

Jack looks pensive. “No.”

She almost doesn't ask, but she does anyway. “Is it because of Dean?” She remembers how dull his eyes were, weeks ago, when Castiel’s death was a raw and open wound.

“You’ll just have to wait and see, won't you? Ask them yourself.” Jack’s eyes sparkle with affection even as he says it, and Claire knows.

“How long?” she asks. “How long do I have?”

He tilts his head. “I don't know.”

“But… you're God,” she observes intelligently.

Jack smiles again, almost too peaceful. “I know. But I won't be like my grandfather. I could look—tell you when and how you die. But I don't want to.”

“I don't want you to, either,” she says quickly, because she really doesn't. She just assumed he already knew.

“When you do die, though, hopefully in a long time, I promise you'll be okay,” Jack assures her. “Billie is an excellent Death, compassionate and fair, and when she brings you to Heaven, I’ll be the first to welcome you. I swear that.”

It's too much, for a moment, and Claire realizes she’s holding her breath so hard it hurts. “I miss them.”

“I know.” Jack looks childishly sad. He is a child, Claire supposes, so that makes sense. “They miss you, too. I’m sorry I can't do more.”

“They're happy?” she asks. “In Heaven. They're happy?”

“Yes.” His face is open and honest, and a knot in Claire’s chest loosens.

“I know I can't just bother you every day,” she says. “But I was hoping… if you ever have the time… you could come by for family dinner.”

He looks delighted. “I would love to have family dinner with you, Claire Novak.” He reaches out and squeezes her hand. “And you can pray to me whenever you want. I will always hear you, even if I can't answer every prayer. You're my sister, after all. Castiel is very happy, knowing I’m here.”

“Tell them I miss them,” she says, squeezing his hand back. “Tell them…” She doesn't know the words for what she's feeling.

“I will,” Jack says, and Claire remembers: _right, God._ “Castiel says to say _see you soon_.” He grins mischievously, his eyes flitting up to the ceiling as if he can see straight through it to Heaven. He probably can. “He’s now insisting that he did not mean it like that, and he would like to add on _not_ too _soon_.”

She can't help but laugh. “I’ll do my best. But I’ll be seeing you?”

His smile softens. “Of course. I’ll come when you call.” He considers that for a moment. “Actually, you could probably just text me. Dean's been complaining about internet connection in Heaven, so we’re working on the WiFi.”

And there's nothing Claire can say to _that_.

He’s gone when she blinks, but a warm breeze rustles the curtains across the windows. _Be well, Claire._

Something bright catches her eye—on the end of her bed is a little pendant on a thin chain that _definitely_ wasn't there before. She’s confused for a moment—she's not one for dainty jewelry, and she would assume God would know that, even if he is just a little kid. Then she looks closer, and her breath catches. It looks liquid, but when she touches it it's like glass. It’s the same shade of blue as her own eyes—the same color as Castiel’s. Something golden and smoldering pulses behind it.

It doesn't do anything special, she can tell instinctively. No sudden godly powerups. It's just… warm. It feels like Jack, it feels like Dean and Cas, it feels like her father.

“Thank you,” she whispers, clutching the chain, and she knows they can hear her.

Her eyes fall on the unopened envelope still on her desk. She thinks about Castiel carefully writing her name across the paper. She thinks of Dean carrying it in his pocket all the way to her.

She crosses the room, picks up her knife, and opens the letter.

**Author's Note:**

> Reviews are, as always, appreciated.
> 
> find me on tumblr, my main is [@perseusjaxon](https://perseusjaxon.tumblr.com) and my writing blog is [@lowriting](https://lowriting.tumblr.com)!


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